


Let Yourself Drown

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, GIVE JAVI A STEAK AND A BLOWJOB, Shameless Smut, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Javi comes home with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Let Yourself Drown

For the sixth time that afternoon, you check your phone. 

Radio silence from Javi.

You two had never been a joined-at-the-hip sort of couple, but he kept in regular contact most days, even if it was just to send you a picture of Murphy making his concentration face from across their shared desk space (which Javi had hated at first).

You get home from work and dump your stuff, listening. No sounds come from Javi’s home office upstairs, or the kitchen, where he sometimes makes his “stressful day” tamales.

Perplexed, and now a bit worried, you potter around for a while and eventually start dinner, chicken fried steak, a favourite of Javi’s. You switch on the radio to soothe you as you check your phone again. Should you call Murphy?

After you set the steak, green beans and mashed potatoes on a warm plate in the oven to keep until Javier gets back, you hear a key in the lock, and a few footsteps later, he’s in the doorway, aviators hanging off his criminally low black shirt, his leather jacket crumpled, the stress lining his face. “Sorry I’m late, baby.”

If you had been planning to comment on his lateness, to express concern, any thoughts of that melted away and you crossed the room into his arms.

He crushes you tightly, burying his face into the curve where your neck and shoulder meet, and he’s  _ shaking, _ you realise.

“Javi.” You rub circles on his back like you would a crying child. “What happened?”

He takes a deep, trembling breath, and you breathe him in, the faint scent of cigarette smoke, clean soap and his habitual verbena cologne, and remind yourself that he’s  _ safe _ , now.

“I couldn’t save them,  _ mijita. _ I tried,  _ fuck, _ I tried.”

He sometimes had moments like this. When for all his late nights, efforts, heartache, foot chases, dangerous roof climbs - he couldn’t save a life.

“Javi..” You murmur, running your hands through his thick, dark hair as he shudders. That this strong man feels safe enough with you to break down in your arms never fails to astound you, touch your heart. “Come with me.”

You tug his hand, and he follows you obediently, which tells you how much his day weighs on him, and how much it will for days, months, years, to come. Javier is a man who will never take the loss of life lightly. His heart is too big for the DEA, but he gives it to them anyway.

Music from the radio, something slow, drifts through into the living room as you gently push him down on to the chair. He looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes, the eyes you can never resist, big and brown and soulful in his tanned face, and you palm a pack of his cigarettes from the coffee table and pass him one, lighting it.

“ _ Miiita, _ I-”

“Just do as you’re told, okay, you big, bad DEA agent,” you smile, as he inhales.

For the first time, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he nods, silently.

You kneel before him, spreading his knees, and he eyes you with interest as you lean forward and press a kiss to his crotch, then free the buttons of his jeans, one by one, and by the time you get to the end of the row of buttons, the backs of your fingers are brushing his erection.

“Baby,” he starts.

“Nope,” you interrupt. “Let me do this for you.”

His eyes go dark, and he takes another deep drag of the cigarette. You take that as agreement, and slip your hands into his black boxers, freeing him, and he feels like steel encased in velvet. A curse drops from his lips as you settle yourself in and kiss the tip of his cock, laving your tongue gently, and Javi slumps slightly in the chair, his hips canting forward.

He whispers something in Spanish, rubbing a hand over his face, and you open your lips wider, taking just a little of him in, swirling your tongue around him like fine ice cream to be savoured. Javi groans around the cigarette, undone.

The smoke curls above your heads, hanging in the air. You glance up, and you can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s relaxing, by tiny increments.

You settle one hand on his inner thigh, balancing, and use the other to cradle his balls, the way you know he likes it. 

“ _ Querida… _ ” Javi mutters, and his voice has dropped half an octave, and you look up into his lust-blown eyes and you know that what happened today has slipped from his mind, for now, and if you can give him this escape, no matter how short, you will.

He’s slick in your mouth now, and you take him in deeper, working him with your tongue, and your hand leaves his balls to wrap around the base of his cock, covering him where your lips can’t reach. His hips jerk and you watch as he swallows hard, fighting the urge to fuck your mouth. You give him everything, taking him as deep as you can and using your tongue on the pressure points you know drive him wild, occasionally pulling almost off him, your tongue teasing just the tip of him, until those needy little groans you love fall from his lips, and then you really pick up the pace, sucking him in deep and working your hand over him. You move the hand braced on his thigh down to tease the soft, sensitive skin behind his balls and it sends him over the edge. He can barely stutter out a warning before he’s giving you all he’s got, coming like a freight train, his whole body going taut as the climax hits him full force.

You drink it down, licking him lazily until he shudders with the sensitivity, gently stroking your hair to signal that he’s had enough.

Grinning, you rest your head on his thigh and lift your hand. “Can I?”

Javi passes you the cigarette and you take a drag, tasting the faint residue of the terrible government coffee the DEA provide.

“Thankyou,” he whispers, his voice raspy and deep, and you take one more drag on the cigarette, almost a stub now, before handing it back. 

“I’ve made chicken fried steak. It’s in the oven, keeping warm.”

Javi pulls you on to his lap and you loop your arms around his neck, breathing him in, listening to his heart beating under your ear.

“What did I do to deserve you,  _ mijita, _ hmmm?” Javi asks softly, almost thoughtfully. 

You lean up, kiss the side of his neck. “You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know,” you whisper into his skin.

He chuckles. “It’s not my heart you’re interested in, baby,” he drawls.

And you both laugh, and you hug him some more, and then you eat dinner in the yard as the birds sing, heralding the arrival of dusk.

And that night, Javi doesn’t have any nightmares as he sleeps, wrapped around you.


End file.
